Greg and Allison go to a Party
by Rosi92
Summary: Birthday drabble for maddoggirl. In The Mistake, House said that he'd seen Dr. Ayersman with his girlfriend at a Christmas party. What was he doing there?


**Greg and Allison go to a Party**

_A birthday gift for MadDogGirl, who asked to see what House was doing at the Christmas party he claimed to have been at in "The Mistake" when he informed Dr. Ayersman that he knew he'd been having an affair._

It was exactly a week before Christmas, and House was sitting in his office listening to his iPod. Cuddy had organised a Christmas party for the hospital staff, which was presumably where Cameron, Chase and Foreman had gone – they had been mysteriously absent from the conference room next door for several hours now. In the spirit of Christmas (Hanukkah, whatever), Cuddy had found it in herself to invite House along to the party as well, despite her fears of the problems that his antisocial demeanour would almost certainly have caused. House, however, had declined. He disliked the majority of the staff at the hospital, and the majority of the staff disliked him. Spending his afternoon socialising with said members of staff would have been nothing short of Hell.

There was a knock on the door. Slightly irritated, House removed an earphone and looked up. Before he could tell his visitor where to go, the door opened, revealing Allison Cameron. She was wearing a short black dress, her hair sprayed, combed and moussed into an intricate design, and her face was immaculately made up. She looked good, House conceded, if a little overdressed for a simple hospital party.

"Hey," she said quietly, closing the door behind her.

"Hello, Cameron," House replied, slightly bemused. What was she doing here?

"Why aren't you at the party?" she asked, drifting over to his desk and sitting down. He pursed his lips, wondering whether or not to point out that he hadn't asked her to sit. He decided not to, for now.

"I'm not really a party kind of guy," he informed her. "And why aren't _you_ at the party, Dr. Cameron?"

Cameron sighed... _seductively?_ The hell? Was Cameron flirting with him? House was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He wasn't sure that he liked where this was going. "I was lonely. Everyone else seemed to have a significant other. Everyone except me. I just-"Cameron broke off, sniffing and swiping at her eyes with one hand – but carefully, so that she didn't smudge her makeup. "I just can't help thinking about... my husband. This is just the kind of party he would have liked."

Oh, Jesus Christ. Was she for real? He examined her face thoroughly. Dammit, real tears. Cameron was crying. How was he supposed to deal with a situation like this?

Cameron continued. "So, I was wondering... I just... I just need someone to... I don't know, keep me company. Would... would you do that?"

House groaned quietly. "If I agree to go to the stupid party with you, will you stop crying?"

Cameron choked back a few more tears, smiling at him. "Thank you, House. This means a lot to me." She reached out and rested her hand, with its perfectly manicured nails, on his. Reluctantly, he met her watery eyes. What the hell was he getting himself in for?

House raised his glass and downed his third shot of Bourbon in half an hour. If Wilson were there, he would be nagging House about mixing Vicodin with alcohol, but House couldn't see Wilson anywhere, so it looked as though he was safe for now. Cameron, who was sitting on a bar stool next to him sipping at a cocktail, scowled.

"So, are we going to dance or not?" Cameron asked him, a little huffily.

House rolled his eyes and held up his cane. "What do you think?"

Cameron rolled _her_ eyes in response. "Well, can we do _something_ other than just sit here and drink?"

"Nobody's stopping you from dancing," House told her. "Go on, I'll stay here. I'll watch. I'll even wave, if you want."

Cameron's scowl deepened as she drained the last of her cocktail and got to her feet. House sighed in relief as she moved further away from the bar. He decided to savour his freedom with another shot, and informed the barman of his decision. The barman agreed that this was a good decision, and provided him with the necessary equipment to carry out the previously mentioned decision.

House closed his eyes and downed the fourth shot. He wanted nothing more than to escape back to his office, away from Cameron and the madness that she had forced him to descend into. Because of her, he was verging on drunk at five in the afternoon. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing. It just wouldn't have happened if it weren't for her.

He opened his eyes, and jumped as he saw that a slightly dishevelled Lisa Cuddy had sat down in Cameron's place while he had been musing. It looked as though he wasn't the only one that was drunk at five in the afternoon.

"Houshh!" Cuddy slurred excitedly. "You're at the party!"

"Astute observation," House noted. He also noted that Cuddy was drunker than he was. This could be fun.

"But where'sh Wilson?" Cuddy asked him.

"Dunno. Probably doing doctor stuff. Cancer kids, y'know."

"Oh. Shame," Cuddy lamented. She paused, taking not so much of a sip as a gulp of her Margarita. "He'sh your friend, ishn't he?"

"...Yes."

"No, but I mean, your _friend_. You know, in italicshh."

"Italicshh?"

"Yeah, italicshh. Like, quotashion marksh."

"Huh?"

"You're screwing him!" Cuddy declared loudly. Several heads turned in their direction, but neither of the doctors took any notice.

House wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that eloquently delivered sentence, so he settled for a slightly confused "No?"

"Huh. Well, you should be."  
"Any particular reason?"

"You're hot... and... he'sh hot... men together... I don't know... women like that kind of shtuff."

"Sure." House began to edge his barstool further away from Cuddy. This was proving difficult.

"No, really! Loadsh and loadsh of women like it!"

"Loads of women like the thought of Wilson and I getting it on?"

"No! Well, I don't know. Maybe. It'sh a... crazy world. But they do. It'sh why... threesomes..."

House got to his feet, officially scared. "Okay, Cuddy, I'm just going to... go over here now." He then proceeded to limp away from the bar as fast as he possibly could, making a mental note never to talk to a drunk Cuddy ever again.

He had no idea where he was going, but the buffet was mere paces away, so he decided that that was as good a place as any. Cuddy hadn't spared any cash on the drinks, but the food was regular party food – sausage rolls, mini-quiches, paper plates. House took a plate and began to help himself. The only other person at the buffet was a man in his late fifties that he vaguely recognised as Dr. Ayersman, one of the transplant surgeons. Not a particularly good transplant surgeon, if his memory served, but after four shots and his... illuminating conversation with Cuddy, there was every possibility that his brain was too mushy to be trusted.

Ayersman was quickly joined by one of the radiology nurses – Emma something. It began with a C... Cutler, that was it. Emma Cutler. House watched as Ayersman reached over to pick up a sausage roll from a plate just a little too far away for him to reach. Smiling, Cutler, who was closer to the plate, passed him the sausage roll. Ayersman placed the sausage roll on his plate, giving Cutler a brief smile, but no spoken thanks. That was interesting – House knew that, even in his current drug-, alcohol- and Cuddy-addled state of mind. That meant that the two of them were intimate. Very intimate. House stored that little piece of information away in the back of his mind for use at a later date.

"House!" House groaned as he heard Cameron's voice behind him.

"What?" he asked, without turning around.

"Why did you move? You said you'd stay by the bar!"

"I got hungry!" House said, defensively. "Look, Chase is over there. Why don't you go dance with him?"

"Fine," Cameron huffed, storming off in the direction that House had pointed. In fact, House had no idea whether Chase was there or not. Still, it had got Cameron out of his hair. Dammit, this hospital was a nuthouse.

At least there was one person who House knew was relatively sane. He took out his pager and tapped out a page to Wilson. Smirking, House made his way in the direction of Exam Room Two.


End file.
